Back in Atlanta

My flight isn't until 13:14. No rush to get up. I start pottering around at about 8:00.

After going through my emails and writing up yesterday's events I pack up my stuff. I check out in the shop a little before 10:00 and ask them to call me a taxi. Ten of fifteen minutes it’ supposed to be.

I stand outside in the sun and read Private Eye to pass the time. Sweating in the sun in a very English, low-key way. When no taxi has appeared after 30 minutes, I go back inside to see what's happening.

"They've probably been delayed. It's Monday and a lot of people are going home."

OK then. Not totally reassuring. Just as well I’ve left a shitload of time. That’s the way I roll now I’m an oldie person. Paranoid and assuming everything will take me longer than expected.

When almost an hour has passed, I ask:

“Can you get me an Uber? I'll give you $60.”

He rings the taxi company again. Evidently, they picked up someone else. Fucking brilliant. He orders me an Uber and he asks for 40 dollars. A small price to pay for not missing my flight. It comes in less than 5 minutes.

I'm at the airport 1.45 hours before my flight is due. Plenty of time. Though checkin takes a bit longer than I expected.

Not having eaten, I pick up a sandwich and a bottle of coke for the flight. Then go and sit at a bar.

"A double Jack Daniels, no ice, please."

I've around 20 minutes to kill before boarding. May as well kill off some brain cells at the same time.

I restrict myself to just the two. $44, before tip. Fuck me, airport bars are expensive. I could have bought two bottles of cheap bourbon for that.

The gate isn't far. Once again, I time it perfectly, rolling up just as priority boarding is ending. I stroll right on board.

This time, I watch a weird Danish film called Another Round (at least in English). It's about a group of teachers who use alcohol as a performance-enhancing drug. Inevitably, it all goes horribly wrong. Though I don't get to see the ending. It's almost 2 hours long and I'm only three-quarters of the way through when the flight lands.

For some reason, I don't recognise my bag and let it whirl past a couple of dozen times before I pluck it from the carousel. How often have I travelled with this bag? What is wrong with me?

A taxi quickly drops me at my hotel. I recognise this place. I've stayed here before. It has all the scary internal balconies.

I’m on the fourteenth floor. But I’m staring up at most of the surrounding buildings. It’s a typical high-rise American downtown.

Luggage dumped, I head the couple of blocks to Sol's Liquor to pick up some whiskey for the kids. The challenge is to find something not stocked by Ton Overmars. I buy two bottles of some weird-looking cheap stuff. Pretty certain they won't have that.

Back in the hotel, I wander to the rear to take a look at the cafeteria. A voice behind me says:

"Excuse me sir. Are you a guest?"

It's security. Do I look that dodgy? It must be my crazy old man wild hair. I show him my key card. He seems satisfied, though somewhat begrudgingly.

I buy a bag of salt and vinegar crisps in the cafeteria. $2.99. The thieving bastards. It's not even a big bag.

This is annoying. Every time I touch a metal object like a door handle, I get a static electric shock. Just enough to be irritating.

My original plan was to go to Max's Lagers for beer and food. But I'm feeling lazy. Knacked, really. Despite doing fuck all today other than wait around. Instead, I stroll down to Hsu's, just three blocks away. For dumplings, fried rice and a Sweetwater 420. The food is OK, especially when I beef it up with soy sauce and hot sauce.

Back in my room, I watch Match of the Day 2 while I'm waiting for the Covid test result to roll in. Which it does, well before 23:00. I try to check in online. It doesn't work. I upload my vaccine certificate and give it another try. Still no joy. I'll just have to make sure I get to the airport really early.

Around 23:30, I feel peckish. I wander downstairs hoping to get some crisps from a vending machine. Without much hope of getting anything substantial. But the cafeteria is still open. I get a pastrami sub. Almost $10 it costs me.

The sandwich isn't bad. It's just the cost that sticks in my throat. I follow it down with some sleeping whisky. My last full day is done.


Sol's Liquor
186 Courtland St NE,
Atlanta, GA 30303.
http://solsliquor.com/


Hsu's Gourmet
192 Peachtree Center Ave NE,
Atlanta, GA 30303.
https://www.hsus.com/

Florida rain

I'm awoken by torrential rain. Christ, it’s really pissing it down is heavy. It pounds the roof noisily. A bit annoying, as I hadn't planned getting up this early.

I potter around my room for a while. Matt is picking me up around noon. I really hope the rain has finished by then. The rain is so heavy, even the short walk to Matt's truck would drench me.

Luckily, the rain is done when Matt turns up. It's noticeably much cooler than yesterday. I’m not complaining. I was roasting my nuts yesterday.

Matt is taking me around some breweries. We start at Pompano Beach Brewing. Basically, because it's one of the few that's open this early.

It's a bit of a shed inside. Empty, other than a clutch of people at the bar. What to drink? An IPA, maybe. I plump for Curse of the Bird, An American IPA. By that, I guess they mean West Coast IPA. That's certainly what it tastes like. A straightforward, citrussy-bitter IPA.

Matt is a really nice bloke and we chat away merrily. Quite a bit about hops. I realise just how out of touch I am with recent developments.

I notice that they have another IPA, Purgatory. So, I have one of those next. It's pretty similar to the other one.

The plan is to go around a few breweries in Fort Lauderdale. So that's where we head next. To Tarpon River Brewing.

It's pretty weird looking inside. It's basically an industrial shed, with the brewing kit running down one side. On the other, there's a single-storey building inside the shed. Matt tells me this was some requirement to be able to serve beer. Though there are also seats outside it, which is where we are. It's all very strange. There's a nice breeze blowing through. Which is handy, as it's warming up. 

I ask the waitress if they have a Stout. She doesn't understand what I mean. I end up getting a coffee Brown Ale.

We eat and I get an IPA. I go for a burger. With extra bacon. Bacon improves every meal. As it does in this case.

There was a bit too much coffee in the Brown Ale for my taste.

Soon, we're off again. This time to Invasive Species, located in a bright yellow, single-storey building. Todd, who was at my talk yesterday, is waiting for us at the bar. We get ourselves a table. What to drink? I opt for Migration, cold IPA. Someone told me about them the other day. It's an IPA fermented with a Lager yeast. It just tastes like any other IPA to me.

Slightly weird decor, what with the stuffed animals and skulls. Are they making a point? That's your fate if you're an invasive species.

We can't hang around too long. I've at appointment for a Covid test. Without it, I won't be able to get on the plane back to Amsterdam. Oh, the joys of travel currently!

The test takes about 5 seconds. I'll have the result by 11 PM tomorrow. $149 it cost. Fucking hell. But, as it means the difference between getting on the plane home and not, it’s a price I have to pay.

We end our crawl at 3 Sons Brewing. Another barn-like industrial space. They're showing the Superbowl. I order an Imperial Stout with coconut and vanilla. It's quite tasty, if a little sweet. That doesn't stop me ordering a second and a third.

We eat tacos as the Superbowl rumbles on. Dead good tacos, mind. Best I’ve had in a while. Seafoody, spicy, citrussy. I wish I’d opted for three rather than just two.

It's getting quite late and I'm feeling a bit knacked. We leave when the game ends.

Matt has been a brilliant host. Showing me around the area and it's breweries. It's been a whole lot of fun. We say our goodbyes when he drops me at my hotel. hopefully I'll be back again sometime in the future.

A soothing draught of whisky brings the day to a close.



Pompano Beach Brewing Company
3200 NW 23rd Ave Suite 500,
Pompano Beach, FL 33069.
https://pompanobeachbrewing.com


Tarpon River Brewing
280 SW 6th St,
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33301.
https://tarponriverbrewing.com


Invasive Species Brewing
726 NE 2nd Ave,
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33304.
https://invasivespeciesbrewing.com/


3 Sons Brewing Co
236 N Federal Hwy #104,
Dania Beach, FL 33004.
https://www.3sonsbrewingco.com

Florida sun

I don't get up that early. There's no rush. Matt isn't picking me up until 11:30.

Once I've showered and shaved, I head over to the beach. It's hot. Fucking hot. Too hot for me. I don't linger all that long. I’m really not built for the heat. In several ways. I’m English, old and a fat bastard. Triple whammy.

Matt is bang on time again. It's not far to Odd Breed, his brewery. Which is in the original Pompano Beach downtown. His barman, Scott, is already starting to open up. It’s not huge. There's a modestly-sized bar area at the front. One wall is totally lined with oak barrels.

Which is what you would expect, as all Matt's beers are mixed fermentation and barrel-aged. He has more patience than me. Most of his beers take two or three years to be ready. That's quite a commitment.

Just after opening time, the first customer rolls up. As Matt introduces me, he says "We've met before, in Portland." This happens to me more often than you might expect. As is proved when the second customer tells me that we met in Chile. Is the beer world so small, or do I get around a lot? A bit of both, I think.

Scott serves me a Saison. It's beautifully balanced, with citrus, Brettanomyces and fruity hops. Very drinkable.

I slowly work my way through the draught beers as the room starts to fill up. I need to warm up. And hydrate up. Can’t talk well with a dry throat. I'm grateful for the airco, given the heat outside.

Just after 13:00 I move behind the bar and start my talk. Brettanomyces in British Brewing is the topic. Very appropriate, given the type of beers Matt brews. It goes pretty well. I've given it multiple times and am really confident with the material. I can easily field the questions at the end. Mostly.

 

I've a few books still. I sell them all straight away and have to disappoint a few potential customers. It's always a nightmare trying to work out how many books to bring with me. I pretty much never get it right. All gone in minutes or a stack left over.

I sit at the bar and chat with people. Which is always good fun. I enjoy meeting people. Especially beer people. Always plenty to chat about.

The crowd gradually thins out and I get to chat more with Matt. The more he tells me about his process, the more impressed I am. It's not just about fermenting the wort then throwing it into a barrel. Many of his beers he starts in French oak puncheons then transfers into former spirit barrels. Something which adds levels of flavour. As does the bottle conditioning he insists on.

Matt pulls out various bottles and shares them around. The bloke from Chile, German, has some bottles and cans from his brewery. They get shared around, too. Lots of dead interesting stuff. This is a great way to spend Saturday afternoon.

Matt and I get tacos from the food truck next door. Very good they are, too. I do like me a taco. They're just fiery enough for my taste.

As evening draws in, I get an Old Rasputin. Unlike tap rooms in many states, they're allowed to sell beer from other breweries here in Florida. There's only so much sour beer I can drink in a day before my stomach starts to object.

Around 20:00 Matt drives us over to another brewery in Pompano Beach, Dangerous Minds. It's not the most romantic location, being in a strip mall. It's owned by a Brit and a German. They mostly concentrate on classic styles, which is perfect for me.

I get an Imperial Stout. It's pretty good. Being a little peckish, we order food. Matt gets a pizza. How could I get anything but the Scotch egg? I haven't had one for ages. It comes with HP sauce. Perfect.

We're sitting outside. The temperature is perfect. How brilliant is this, being able to drink al fresco in shorts in February?

Matt tells me all about the Florida brewing industry. Which is quite insular in many ways. I guess it is a long way from South Florida to any other state.

We linger until closing time. It's after midnight when I get to my hotel room. Whisky whistles me to sleep.

Odd Breed Wild Ales
50 NE 1st St,
Pompano Beach, FL 33060.
https://www.oddbreed.com/


Dangerous Minds Brewing Co
1901 N Federal Hwy Suite E115,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://dangerousmindsbrewing.com/

Florida here I come

I rise around 7:30 and head straight to the bistro. For exactly the same breakfast as yesterday. That should keep me going for a while.

I've still three bottles of Mike Karnowski's beer. One of them a corked and caged 75 cl. I'm a bit wary of taking that type of bottle in my checked in bag. Best drink it up. It's an Arctic Ale, the perfect breakfast beer. I sip on it while catching up with my emails.

I meet Stan in the lobby at 9:15. Soon we're on the motorway headed for Atlanta airport. It gives us another chance to chat. Stan always has interesting stuff to tell me. This time it's all about hop chemistry. How little I understand about hops. Quite humbling, really. How little I know about modern advances, too. Makes me glad that I stick to history, where nothing changes.

Stan needs to go to a different terminal for his flight to Denver. We say our goodbyes and I trundle along to the Delta check in. It's all very painless. There aren't even queues at security. It's odd that, other than having to wear a mask, there are no Covid restrictions. No proof of vaccination or negative Covid test needed to board.

I've still more than an hour before my flight departs. Time for a calming drink. A Gordon Biersch bar will do. I park my flabby old arse at the bar.

"A double Jack Daniels, no ice, please."

“Can I see some ID?”

Bloody hell. I look old enough to be Edward the Confessor’s dad. I guess it’s just the rules. Still feels weird.

A chance to catch my breath. It's pretty busy here. So unlike Schiphol. Very much like usual in a large airport.

"Would you like another drink, sir?" the barman asks.

Not at these fucking prices. I've already looked at the bill for the first $27.50. I'm not a millionaire.

I get to the gate just a priority boarding is about to end and waltz right through.

The onboard entertainment is free. So I pull out my headphones and look for something to watch. There seem to be loads of old films. I eventually settle on Reds. How old is this? Must be from sometime in the 1970s. Jack Nicholson looks so young. It's a bit slow. And long. By the time we land I'm not even halfway through. Maybe I'll finish it on the return flight to Atlanta.

I’m a lucky boy. My bag flops onto the carousel just as I arrive there.

My taxi driver is on a video call to his brother. What the fuck? I'd prefer a little more attention to the road.

I'm not in the fanciest accommodation. It's a cheapish motel. Close to the beach, mind.

Once in my room, I email Matt Manthe. I'll be giving a talk at his brewery tomorrow. Does he fancy a beer this evening? He does, and arranges to pick me up at 17:30.

I power up the TV to pass a little time. It starts on Fox News. I guess that tells me something about the people who stay here.

Matt arrives in his truck on the dot. Sam, who helps at the brewery and is looking to start his own place, is with him.

Our first port of call is Briny Irish Pub. It's pretty crowded, but we find a table. Pretty noisy, too, due to the live music. It is Friday night, I suppose. I order an IPA1A from 26 degrees Brewing. It's not bad, in an old-school West Coast sort of way.

Matt tells me all about his brewery and his mixed fermentation culture. Which has multiple stains of Brettanomyces and pediococcus, as well as boring old Saccharomyces. He uses it for all of his beers. He's a very patient man. All of his beers have years in oak before he considers them ready for sale.

What to eat? What about fish and chips. I haven't had that for ages. Well, since yesterday. Very nice it is, too. Especially as there's malt vinegar to drown it in.

We move on to 26º Brewing, which isn't far. It's a cavern of a place and pretty busy. We all get their Scotch Ale, which Matt has been telling me about. A little peaty, but nothing too stupid.

There's a burlesque show, which is pretty weird. Evidently, it's a thing in breweries in South Florida. Very strange.

We only stay for the one. Then go over the road to Checkers, a German restaurant. It’s got a black and white half-timbered thing going on. Which seems rather out of place in Florida. We sit at the bar.

I get myself a half litre of Salvator. Matt has a boot-shaped litre glass of something a little weaker. It's so he can join the boot club. Once he's drunk a certain number of these things he'll get his own stein.

They kick us out at 22:00 and Matt drives me back to my fancy hotel.

Where a whisky wheels me down the hill to sleepy town.




Briny Irish Pub
3440 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://thebrinyirishpub.com/


26° Brewing Co.
2600 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
http://www.26brewing.com/



Checkers Old Munchen
2209 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://stammtischcheckersoldmunchen.com/